


The Reflection is Often Distorted

by Katricia



Series: blood for the blood god [2]
Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Hermitcraft RPF, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: (mostly), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Gods AU, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, So is Wilbur, Verbal Abuse, grian is going through it, i thought about tagging this with major character death but like, look everyone is just real messed up here, phil is already dead, probably, they all are, they're gonna get better eventually, who knows at this point - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-14 20:34:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 14,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29548005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katricia/pseuds/Katricia
Summary: Grian is working on his mansion when he feels it. It's the sensation of something deep inside snapping, a connection that he's spent years ignoring, actively blocking out until it's too loud. (He's learned to keep the bloodlust at bay with pranks, with wars that have no real stakes. Still, sometimes he locks himself away and doesn't look at anyone for fear he might snap.) It feels wrong, though, empty in a way he can't explain to have that connection severed. Always before, he knew where Phil was, where his brothers were, even when he didn't want to. (He's heard stories, and he prays they aren't true. He knows they are.)
Relationships: Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Series: blood for the blood god [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2119995
Comments: 38
Kudos: 225





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, here's the deal. Someone was like hey the original au is cool but what if Grian was part of it? And I was like wait what if he was???
> 
> So here is the sequel! Am I going to go back and edit anything to put Grian into it? Absolutely not, we die like men in this house. 
> 
> No jokes though, I do have plot reasons as to why Grian wasn't there, and this thing has grown to be like three times as long as the original and it's still going, so I hope you enjoy!
> 
> My tumblr is blueeyedjoy if anyone wants to come yell at me. :)

Grian is working on his mansion when he feels it. It's the sensation of something deep inside snapping, a connection that he's spent years ignoring, actively blocking out until it's too loud. (He's learned to keep the bloodlust at bay with pranks, with wars that have no real stakes. Still, sometimes he locks himself away and doesn't look at anyone for fear he might snap.) It feels wrong, though, empty in a way he can't explain to have that connection severed. Always before, he knew where Phil was, where his brothers were, even when he didn't want to. (He's heard stories, and he prays they aren't true. He knows they are.)

There's something wrong though, something terribly wrong, if that connection was severed, and he may have left, he may have told Phil he wanted nothing to do with him, but that isn't stopping him from spreading his wings (he thinks that's why Phil took him: he looks the most like he could be his son, with his golden wings and blonde hair), and flying towards where he last felt his family.

The house is a surprise. Not that it's nice looking- Phil taught them all how to build, how to make something look decent. Not even the air of hominess it radiates, warm light spilling out the windows and smoke lazily winding up to block out the stars. They'd had homes before, Grian remembers. Mostly one where he'd grown up, and that's the one he remembers slamming the door so hard it had cracked behind him, screaming at Phil in the yard until his voice broke, until he finally flew away. 

That's the house this one looks like.

He doesn't know how long he stands there, staring at the door, reaching for the connection he already knows is gone. It's long enough that the sun finishes sinking down past the horizon, and snow swirls softly around him. The lights are still shining through the window when he finally lifts his hand and knocks on the door.

He's expecting Phil, has braced himself for the disapproving look, for manipulative words, even blows. He's not braced for Wilbur to answer the door, for his brother's face to light up in a wide smile before he's crushed in a hug.

"Grian! I didn't even think- Techno! Grian's here!" Wilbur yells in his ear, and he almost doesn't mind, not when it means he’s hugging his brother again. A few seconds later, he hears running footsteps and someone rams into them, knocking him back into the door he'd come through and closed without even realizing it. Blonde hair is all he needs to see to know who it is, and he laughs.

"Hey, Toms. You got tall!" All his brothers are taller than him, actually, he notes, glancing at where Techno is standing a few feet away. Techno’s face is deliberately impassive in the way that Grian knows means he's trying not to show any emotion. He waits for the other two to let go before he spreads his arms, grinning at Techno.

"C'mon, big guy. Gimme a hug, or I'm not gonna stop bugging you," he threatens. It's not much of a threat, but it's enough that Techno rolls his eyes before wrapping him in a hug. (it's a well known fact that Techno gives the best hugs; he's big enough that it feels like he's folding you into himself.) 

It's obvious who's missing though, and he bites his lip as he looks around, unsure if he wants to ask or not. He could enjoy the time without Phil, the calm before the storm of the argument that was sure to ensue.

But he hasn't gotten as far as he has by being a coward (he's a son of the blood god too, even if most don't know it, even if the stories have him confused with his father), and so he draws himself up before asking the fateful question. 

"Where's Phil?" It should be an easy answer. It shouldn't have his brothers giving each other uneasy looks, shifting away from him and drawing into each other. A sick feeling starts in his stomach as he stares at them, a whisper that says everything is definitely not the same as it was when he left.

"We didn't mean to leave you out," Wilbur starts when they're all sitting in the living room. "We just...didn't think you'd want any part of this. And someone moved the timetable up anyways." He glares at Techno, who remains unapologetic.

"It worked out fine, anyways," the piglin shrugs. "Phil is dead and we have his power." Grian isn't exactly certain if the words are directed at him, but either way, his mind goes blank. The idea of Phil being dead is the first concept he has to accept. He didn't know the god could die, he didn't think there was a way to do it. He also didn't think his brothers, Techno, would ever do something like this. He leans forward, props his elbows in his knees.

"Tell me everything."

  
  


The sun is rising by the time they finish their story, and Grian can hardly manage to track it, with Wilbur and Tommy each telling half, and Techno chipping in here and there. It's insane, and tragic. Tragic like the scars that Tommy now sports, like the way Techno is quieter than when they were kids, the way that Wilbur glosses over his own death. Tragic in the way that they brought war and hardship to a server full of kids, and don't even seem to realize how sad it is. 

He eyes his brothers (he can feel the power radiating from them now, doesn't know how he missed it before), and makes a split second decision. 

"Come home with me. Come visit Hermitcraft for a little while." He offers, is almost jealous at the way they look at each other, have a whole conversation without speaking, but he pushes that down. He gave that up when he left, he knew what he was doing. Finally, they look at him and Wilbur nods.

"All right, Grian. We'll come visit."


	2. Chapter 2

Watching his brothers with the hermits is...strange. He can't help but think of when he first came here; half feral with bloodlust and struggling to tamp down those urges. The hermits had taught him how to be friends, how to love in a way that was gentle, not the way he knew, not bruises and harsh words and reluctantly making up in the morning light so the other would have your back. 

He had hidden it from most; he thinks only Xisuma and False really knew where he came from, and it was them who gave him looks when he had told everyone he'd invited his brothers for a visit. The rest were too shocked to find that he even had brothers to notice them, or to notice the way Xisuma corners him after, asks him if it's safe. Grian lies, of course, assures the admin that his brothers are perfectly safe, there's nothing to worry about.

It's not a complete lie, at least. He doesn't think they'll spread destruction on purpose. Accidental destruction, on the other hand? He has to admit, as he watches them poke around Keralis' hotel (volunteered when someone points out that Grian has yet to build any bedrooms in his mansion), and takes them on a tour of some of the highlights, accidental destruction does seem more likely.

"This place is really nice, Grian," Wilbur comments as they walk through the shopping district. Grian had decided to end the tour there, and he's eyeing Tommy, who has his hands in his pockets like a kid who knows he shouldn't touch, but desperately wants to. The other two, he knows can mostly behave out in public. He can trust them to not set any buildings on fire until they have caused other sorts of mayhem. Tommy, on the other hand, will do it by accident, which is why he's sandwiched between Wilbur and Techno, with no chance to touch anything but the ground.

He's about to respond with a pointed comment about how this is what you can accomplish when you focus on making things instead of tearing them apart, how peace can making things better (maybe hypocritical, considering he's started two separate wars on the server), but before he can, there's the sounds of rockets and Scar skids to a landing in front of them. He's in his full mayor regalia, and Grian can already see the familiar light in Wilbur's eye, tries to kick at his ankle subtly.

Judging from the way Scar is giving him a confused look, it doesn't work.

"Hey Scar! Uh, meet my brothers. This is Wilbur, Techno, and Tommy. Guys, say hi to Scar, he's my neighbor, and the mayor of the shopping district." He hopes his tone makes it obvious that Scar is a friend, and not to be messed with. There's a moment of silence where they stare at each other, Scar's face twisted in a smile Grian doesn't even notice as odd anymore, and then Tommy breaks it.

"Hey, what happened to your face?" He blurts out, and there's a flurry of motion as the teenager senses danger and tries to flee before Wilbur puts him in a headlock, whacking him upside the head in the process.

"You can't just ask people what happened to their face! Manners, Tommy!" He yells, and Grian sighs. This isn't exactly atypical, but it also isn't the impression he wanted to give of his family.

"He's got cool scars though!" Tommy protests, thrashing as he tries to escape. "I just wanted to know, let me go, Wilbur! You smell terrible, bitch." His voice only gets louder, and it's only so long until they start to attract attention, so Grian steps in, punching Wilbur's arm. 

"Let him go, Wil, it's fine, right, Scar?" His reaction had actually been similar, so he's expecting the nod from his friend. Wilbur lets go of Tommy a little too reluctantly and Grian glares at him, just in case. 

"I just wanted to welcome you three to Hermitcraft with a little gift. Make sure you feel welcome and let you know how much we appreciate Grian around here!" Scar says, already rooting through a shulker box. "Hold on, I know I put them in here…" The mayor trails off into grumbling noises as he looks through the shulker before placing another and opening it. Grian doesn't have to look at his brothers to know they're all impressed by the casual show of wealth. It had thrown him when he'd first come here, the way the hermits all had so much, and were so willing to share. 

"Here we go! Xisuma mentioned you guys didn't have any, and I had a few spares that I thought you might enjoy," Scar beams, holding out three elytra, all shimmering with enchantments. Grian has to admit, the tour would be easier if his brothers could fly with him, but he also dreads the idea of them being able to fly.

"Awesome! Hey Grian, will you teach me to fly?" Tommy asks, already shrugging on the artificial wings. The other two are more hesitant to take them, and Grian makes a mental note to assure them later that they won't be expected to pay Scar back. 

"Sure, Toms, I always wanted to push you off a cliff," he says dryly, ignoring the way Tommy sputters in favor of waving goodbye to Scar. 

"Come on, I'll show you my place." He offers, already heading for the Nether portal. 

He's actually excited to show off the mansion, grateful that he'd actually gotten some of the interior done before everything had happened. The fire is still roaring when they walk through the door, evening light shafting through the open ceiling and onto the floor. It all looks very dramatic, and the other three pause appropriately, necks craning to take in the ceiling, the fireplace, the pillars. Finally, Wilbur speaks. 

"You've still got the aesthetic down. Phil would've loved this." Grian can't help the flinch that comes at the comparison, the idea that his persona is so easily seen through. He'd thought he was being different by letting himself create, rather than destroy. He'd forgotten, maybe, that Phil could create too, that even if he wasn't what anyone could call good, he'd still tried sometimes, when he remembered that was a thing he should do.

The others are watching him, and he realizes too late that the silence has stretched on for too long, so he plasters a smile on his face, ushers them down to the brightly lit storage area, talking about his plans, about the giant chicken still hanging from the ceiling and how Mumbo and Iskall had pranked him with it. If the others are a little too quiet, he tries not to notice, tries to keep talking, keep a smile on his face.

If he doesn't stop talking, he won't have to think about the fact that all he really wants to do is to be able to talk to his dad.


	3. Chapter 3

Techno is tired. He is past tired, he is exhausted, he is spread thin, stretched past the breaking point and holding on by the very tips of his fingers. 

He is tired, but he can't sleep.

Every time he closes his eyes, he sees the knife driving into Phil's heart. Everytime he thinks he might force himself to sleep, the voices whisper, and he swears there's one that's a little bit louder, a little more familiar than the rest. He doesn't know if he wants to listen more closely, if he wants Phil's voice in his ear.

Instead of sleeping, instead of thinking about it, he's walking. Sneaking out of the hotel wasn't hard; the other two were already asleep and snoring, and no one was watching them (a strange thing, this trust, and he doesn't know if it's smart of them yet, to trust the three of them), so it took nothing to find his way out into the street and start walking. 

It's a strange place, this city (he can't believe this was entirely built by one man, it's too much, he had to have help of some kind). He understands why they're staying here, although he would point out to Grian that they've slept in worse spots, a lack of bedrooms is not a problem.

He doesn't quite understand why they would put this much effort into something, only for it to be wiped clean. It doesn't make sense, why put that much effort in? Why not just live in a sturdy house and do something else with your time? ( _ Like what _ , the voices whisper  _ like fight like kill, kill, kill, kill your father, your brothers, kill the world _ ). He shakes his head and keeps walking. 

The scenery goes from the city to trees that block out the stars, and towers that loom above them. It still seems like a lot of wasted effort, but there's something beyond that, a feeling he can't describe. (The whisper gets louder, tries to insist he listen to it, listen before it's too late) He pushes it back, twists around at the sound of someone landing behind him, silently cursing the way everyone here can fly. He'd tucked the elytra Scar had given him away, unwilling to trust it or the idea that Scar would just  _ give  _ them something like that and not ask for it back, ask for something more valuable in return.

He turns and there's a man behind him, or at least something that looks like one, wearing a helmet that mostly covers his face and a green jumpsuit that's ridiculousness is overshadowed by the power Techno can feel radiating off him. It's not more than what Phil had, but it's different. Less abrasive. Phil's power felt like it might cut you at any moment, this is gentle, a hand on your shoulder at the moment when you most need support.

"Grian didn't tell me his brother was a godling." The man's voice doesn't seem upset, but Techno doesn't relax, is ready to run or fight, whichever comes first. Phil was always most dangerous when he was calm, after all, he doesn't know if another god would be different.

"He didn't know," he responds, and it's a lie, but only half of one. Grian had known when he invited them back, but not before he left, so he's not sure if it counts. The man tilts his head and Techno gets the impression that he's smiling, and the power he exudes draws back until he feels like he can breathe again.

"Don't worry, I'm not upset with him. He wouldn't bring danger here on purpose." There's a pause where Techno considers telling the man (the god, he supposes, but he's not used to thinking of others that way) that Grian absolutely would and has brought danger here, in the form of the three of them. That he doesn't want to, but he's sure this is going to end in destruction, he just doesn't know  _ how _ . He doesn't know how it will end, much less how to stop it. Or if he wants to, for that matter.

"What's your domain, godling?" The man asks, and Techno doesn't know how to answer that. Is he the blood god now? It had been his goal for so long, until recently. Until Wilbur died and Tommy was driven away and he was alone. If he embraced that, he thinks he would be alone again, and he doesn't want that. Could he be anything else though? Can Phil's power be twisted until it fits into a different box?

"I-I don't know," he stammers out when he realizes the man is still waiting for an answer, that he doesn't have a good one, but he needs to say something. The man's shoulders soften, and he takes a step forward. Techno only just stops himself from stepping back in response. They're still several feet apart, but he doesn't want to get too close.

"How long have you had your power?" He asks next, and Techno actually has to think, count the days. They've blurred together from lack of sleep and the grief he's doing his best to hide because he shouldn't be grieving. No one else seems to be.

"Four days?" He finally says. That seems right. It had taken some time for Grian to show up, and they've spent a day here, so that's probably about it. The man lets out a sigh.

"You're young, aren't you? You don't know how to use your power?" Techno hesitates, not wanting to reveal that to someone he doesn't even know. He knows some, he knows the idea of what he can do, the power he can use, just from watching Phil. He hesitates, and the voices are screaming now, the whisper a yell to not tell anyone anything, to keep it to himself and learn on his own. In the end, he hesitates too long, and the man reaches up, unclasps his helmet to reveal a face that is normal at first glance, but the void is in his eyes, swirling darkness that has no end. 

"My name is Xisuma, and I am the god of creation. If you like, I can help you shape your domain, godling." Techno winces at the sheer volume of the voices, the reaction to the unmasked face of the other god. They want his blood, want him to cut out Xisuma's heart, and he wants it too, can practically taste it. He stumbles back a step, hand on his sword hilt, and looks away.

"No. No, I can't.  _ I can't. _ " He doesn't know if he's talking to the voices, or Xisuma, and it doesn't really matter anyways, because he can't get away from either one. He doesn't see the way Xisuma's face softens, or the way he steps back, giving space. 

"All right," his voice is soft, quiet enough Techno has to strain to hear him over the other voices in his head. "If you change your mind, I'll be here. All you have to do is ask." The god lifts into the sky at the words, and Techno realizes too late the man wasn't wearing an elytra, isn't holding rockets, and when he watches him fly, there are no wings visible, just an inky black outline that blocks out the stars. 

Techno lets out a breath and turns back towards the city. He won't sleep, he can't sleep, not with the way the voices are still shouting for blood, for him to hunt down the other god and tear him apart, drink in his power and add to what's already living under his ribs, but he needs to check on his brothers, need to make sure they're all right and still sleeping where he left them.

He'll decide anything else when the sun rises.


	4. Chapter 4

Wilbur can't decide if it's hilarious or sad just how much Grian has hidden his true nature. A little of both maybe, with some jealousy sprinkled in. It seems as though Grian really has learned to fit in, to walk amongst these peace-lovers and not have the urge to burn it all down.

Seeing the inside of the mansion, with the dramatic fireplace and floor that even Phil might balk at during his most dramatic of episodes is almost a relief, and he points out the obvious just to see Grian flinch at his words. (He thinks he wants to be better, but it's easier to fall into old habits.) He tries to stay quiet for the rest, listens to stories of harmless pranks while searching for hidden meanings, for evidence that his brother (his oldest brother, even if Techno would argue he was adopted first, and so is older) is still inside somewhere. He remembers, after all. He remembers Grian right there with them, sowing chaos and bloodshed, with the same itch to push further and further, until those around you break with the pressure. He remembers towns burning and Grian making jokes about roasting marshmallows, remembers Grian's blade cutting through nearly as many as Techno's.

He thinks maybe Grian is playing the long con. (He doesn't think about shouted words, about arguments accusing them all of being monsters, about slamming doors and watching his brother fly away) Maybe he is waiting to unleash hell, to scratch that itch in a spectacular way. (Maybe if he does, Wilbur will feel better about his own urges to tear this place apart, to unleash Techno and Tommy with a few words and leave nothing but rubble in his wake.)

Wilbur has always been good at lying to others, but he's even better at lying to himself.

Lies are only as good as the truths that are in them though, so he goes looking for those truths.

He's already met Scar, and the man seems as though he's nominally in charge. (he doesn't drip with power though, has the same smear of influence Wilbur has been ignoring on his brother. He hasn't thought about other gods, doesn't want to think about his brother betraying them in more ways than just leaving.) He thinks Scar and Grian are friends, so he goes to talk to him first, says he just wants to meet the people his brother has been around, pairs that with a smile that never fails to charm, and he thinks the mayor will do whatever he wants.

He asks about Grian, asks how he fits in, and Scar gives a smile. (He also wonders about the scars, he just knows better than to ask)

"Grian's one of my best friends on the server, you know? He's great," the mayor says, and Wilbur thinks that's that, but Scar isn't finished. "He gets restless sometimes, though, I think he's just easily bored. It's fine, though, we have fun with the little wars and games he thinks up." And that is…something. Wilbur doesn't know what it is just yet, but it's definitely something. Because Scar is smiling still, and if this was war done the way Grian was taught, there would be no smiles at the memories. The server would be burned if this was true war, and he thinks some of his confusion shows, because Scar is speaking again.

"Not _real_ war, of course. Just some little bits of conflict and pranks. If it helps him, I don't mind. It's fun, anyways. Did you see the laser I built in the shopping center?" He asks, face lighting up at the memory, and Wilbur can't talk about this anymore.

He leaves, and he finds someone else, the one who owns the other base close to Grian. He's tall, with a mustache and wears a suit that at first glance looks like it might have bloodstains (heartening) and at second glance is just redstone dust (less heartening). He doesn't understand half of what the man is saying when he starts talking about how his base works (all Wilbur said was he liked the heart, he didn't expect to be told how it works, this is terrible), he was never one who wanted to learn how redstone works. He thinks Techno knows some, so does Grian, but he wasn't ever interested, and still isn't.

He escapes as soon as he can, and decides to leave any further questioning for later. Just in case.


	5. Chapter 5

Grian has had many terrible ideas in his life. The idea to show his brothers the mini games from the end of the Mycelium War is likely going to make the top of that list. He had thought it would make a good object lesson: this is how to end a war peacefully, this is how to make friends and keep them. 

Instead, it's mostly turned into an argument about who's going to be on what teams for paintball. 

"So that's Techno on one team, and me, Grian, Ren, False, and Tango on the other, right?" Wilbur is saying. They've attracted a few hermits, Scar, Impulse, and Iskall as well as the other three who actually want to play. 

"Five against one ain't exactly fair, is it?" False points out and Grian shrugs in response. It's Techno, it would be less fair if there were more people on his team.

"Maybe, but I don't want to overcrowd our team or anything." Wilbur says, and it only sounds strange to those who haven't seen Techno use a crossbow. 

"Put Tommy on my team, he's basically negative people," Techno suggests, grinning at the cries of outrage from their younger brother. Grian claps his hands, drawing the attention of the players.

"Okay, so that's Techno and Tommy on one team, and the rest of us on the other. We can always switch it around if we decide it's unfair later." He mollifies, already heading for their side. (The mushroom side, of course.)

He's fairly certain the other Hermits are going easy on the two for the first round, which results in Techno not even having to respawn, and the game ending when Techno just throws Tommy up to where the block goes. The next round, they fight harder, and it's closer, but Techno still manages. They win the third round, and the fourth, and finally mix up the teams for the fifth round. The brothers vs the rest of the hermits, and Grian thinks he has missed this. He has fun with the hermits, but he has missed having people who know him inside and out, who's fighting styles complement his until there is never an opening, never a chance for an enemy to get through. They win, of course they do, and for a moment he doesn't want to stop; wants to hold onto this feeling forever, wants to keep fighting with his family. 

He takes a deep breath though, hand tightening on his crossbow for a moment before he forces himself to relax, to listen to the cheers and laughter. Scar slaps him on the back and he forces himself not to flinch, to smile and act as if everything is perfectly fine.

Everything is fine. 

"Hey, didn't you say there's a game with tridents too?" Techno asks, and Grian groans. He is not sitting through another argument about teams, not when he doesn't think there's a good way to make it fair anyways.

He distracts them with lunch instead, the promise of food enough to lure them away from the promise of violence, waves at the other hermits as they depart. Wilbur and Tommy walk ahead of them, heads bent together, and Grian really doesn't want to know what they're planning. Techno walks by his side, and they're nearly to the mansion when he speaks up.

"Do you trust Xisuma?" He asks, voice low enough that he doesn't think the other two will hear, and Grian frowns. He doesn't think Techno has met the admin, but maybe he ran into him somewhere. 

"Of course I do. X is a good guy," he says, unsure as to why that's even in question. Xisuma is the one who made the server so no one can die (there are loopholes, Grian is far too aware of that, but for the most part no one can die), Xisuma is the one who helped him when he had no idea how to be human, who welcomed him when he was running from everything he was. "Why do you ask?" he finally says when it's obvious Techno isn't planning to say anything else. His brother shrugs, stares up at the sky.

"He offered to help me figure things out. The others too, probably, but he doesn't know about them." Grian pauses, the mansion in sight just ahead, stares at Techno.

"Why would he be able to help? Or know about any of that?" Grian had specifically not told Xisuma what his brothers were, was planning to not let anyone find out. He's not ashamed, it's just...complicated. And it makes it less complicated to keep it secret. He doubts Techno would just tell people anyways. Tommy or Wilbur might, Techno would not. 

Techno frowns at the question, confusion obvious. "He's a god? Like Phil was. And Dream, I think. Did he not- did you not know?" Grian is aware that the other two are listening now, but he can't pay attention to them, he's focused on the fact that he's been lied to, that the man he thought had helped him had only been using him. Or had just been laughing at him, maybe, he doesn't know. Clearly he doesn't know anything.

"Are you sure? Absolutely sure?" How could he not know? He knows what gods feel like. He should have known as soon as he came on the server, he should have felt it. 

"I'm sure. He's different, but he has power. And he said he was the god of creation. Did he not tell anyone?" Techno's voice has gone sharp, and Grian would calm him, except he doesn't know if he wants to, not now.

"His influence is on everyone," Wilbur chips in, and they all stare. He raises an eyebrow. "Did you not notice? I thought Grian had found someone new to follow. It's hard to give up that power, after all." The words cut like knives, and Grian steps back, swallowing the urge to throw up. 

"He's influencing me?" He doesn't mean for it to come out in a whisper, but it does, and he wants to scrub at his skin, erase any claim that any god has made on him, get away from the idea that anyone has that sort of control. Xisuma was his friend, Xisuma helped him, and Xisuma lied to him. 

Techno's hand lands on his shoulder, rough and heavy, and when Grian looks up at him, the piglin's eyes have turned red, and a shiver runs down his spine.

"I'm going to rip his heart out," Techno rumbles, and Grian wants to agree, wants to watch him do it, wants revenge for this betrayal. (he remembers sleepless nights, remembers Xisuma by his side, a gentle hand, an encouraging word) He wants to burn this world for daring to hurt him, but he pushes it down, shrugs Techno's hand off his shoulder.

"No, you can't-there has to be an explanation for this. He wouldn't just do that to all of us." Grian is sure of that. It's the only thing he can cling to; Xisuma is different from Phil. 

"He was your friend, though," Tommy says, voice soft. "He was your friend and he hurt you. Friends aren't supposed to do that, are they?" 

He's right, is the thing: friends aren't supposed to hurt each other, and Grian doesn't know how to explain that sometimes they do and it's no one's fault, doesn't think he wants to, doesn't know if that applies in this situation. What's the protocol for finding out your friend (the person you looked up to, the one you privately thought of as a stand-in for your own father) is a god, has been using you? 

He steps back, wings flaring behind him. Three sets of eyes follow him, and he needs to get away. He can't think, the air is too thick with expectation, with anger and rage and the scent of blood, and he shakes his head. 

"I need to think, I need- don't do anything yet." He doesn't wait for a response, lifts up and away and flies until he can't anymore, ends up on the top of a tree near the edge of the jungle. He can feel tears he doesn't remember falling on his cheeks, and he wipes at them, only for them to be replaced with more, and he still can't think. 

"Grian? Are you all right?" The familiar voice comes from behind him, and he shakes his head, wings drawn in around him and hands tucked into the feathers. 

"I don't think I am, Mumbo," he whispers, and he feels Mumbo move to sit next to him, shoulder brushing his. 

"What's wrong?" He asks, and Grian's heart squeezes a moment because even if Phil is gone, even if he's separate from his brothers, he has Mumbo, with his careful hands and quiet words and the rest of the hermits, the way they all put up with him, they go along with his ideas and never mention the way he gets restless and needs to stir up conflict every now and then. 

He thinks that's why this hurts so badly.

"Did you- did you know Xisuma is a god?" he asks, wondering if he's the only one who didn't know. Mumbo's eyes are wide when he looks at him though, and Grian knows him well enough to know when he's truly surprised. 

"Bloody hell," he breathes and there's a moment of silence while he takes that in, tilts his head. "That does make sense though. Always thought he didn't feel like a normal admin." Grian huffs out something like a laugh, because of course  _ Mumbo _ noticed. Even Mumbo knew something was off.

"I should have known. I know what it feels- I should have known." He bites his tongue, unwilling for Mumbo to know where he comes from, what he's done. Only two people on this server know what he is, and he doesn't want that number to go up.

"It's not your fault, Grian," Mumbo assures, and Grian just huffs out another laugh. "And anyways, gods aren't that different from admins, are they?" It's a genuine question, but Grian can't help but stare at his friend. He forgets, sometimes, that gods aren't common, that some people go their entire life without encountering one, with only scraps of half-true stories to give them any information. It's been part of his life for so long that it seems as though everything he touches should know. 

"Gods are different. When you're around a god, you can't help but want what they want. When you follow a god, it's like… it's like being tied to the tail of a comet. You can't think of anything but them, you become more like them, you think the way they think, and you lose yourself. If you stay too long, you aren't yourself anymore. You're just another part of them." The words spill out of him, everything he had realized so many years ago, everything he fears may happen all over again. He's fought and clawed for every bit of himself he has, and now it might not even be himself, it might be yet another god taking advantage, and he wants to scream, but Mumbo just looks thoughtful.

"I don't feel different," he says. "I came here so I could learn to build better things with my friends, and that hasn't changed. Are you sure all gods are like that?" 

Grian can't help but stare, because, well, he isn't sure. Mumbo is right, anyways. He doesn't necessarily feel different than he did when he came to Hermitcraft. He still has the same goals; to learn to be better than he was. In building, in friendship, as a person in general. If Xisuma is helping that, is it really so bad? If Grian can't even feel that influence (unlike Phil's, the constant scent of blood, the feeling like a fire was in your chest, leaping to consume everything around it), then is it even there? Is it really a problem? (Wilbur doesn't lie, but he does twist the truth, he says it in the worst way, and Grian knows that, he knows better than to listen to him.)

He lets out a shaky breath, wipes at the last of the tears. "Thanks, Mumbo," he says, wishing not for the first time that he had the same way of cutting through things with simple logic, boiling problems like this down to something a bit easier to stomach. 

He's still angry, of course, but it's not all-consuming, he can think past the rage, he can breathe and know that he is still himself. 

"Not a problem, Grian." They sit there for a quiet moment, watching the sun slowly move, until he sits up straight, a thought striking with all the force of a baseball bat.

He left his brothers alone.

He left his brothers alone and angry.

He left his brothers along and angry,  _ with a clear target for that anger. _

"I have to go, sorry, Mumbo, we should do hermit challenges again soon, bye!" He says in a rush, already flying away. He doesn't bother to check back at his base, he flies straight for Xisuma's. He might not want to talk to the other man yet, but he also doesn't want him to die (he knows there is no death on this server but he also knows there are loopholes, he knows with enough intent and power you can overcome those rules), he doesn't want his brothers to die, and he has a feeling about what might happen if his brothers take a life like this, what it meant for Techno's eyes to turn red, why he was so angry. 

He doesn't want his brothers to be like their father.

He flies straight and true, faster than he thinks he's gone before, and he feels them before he sees them, feels the roiling anger and hate, tastes the blood in the back of his throat, and he pushes himself to go faster. 

He finds them on the top of one of Xisuma's towers, a tableau of violence paused in the middle. Techno has a knife pressed to the god's throat, while Wilbur stands behind, a sword in the back. Tommy is close, axe drawn and face twisted in anger, and Grian skids to a halt across the floor.

"Stop!" He yells, and no one moves, but also no one dies, so he takes the win for now. "Don't kill him,  _ please _ . Just...leave him alone." He doesn't want to beg, not for this, and he can't fight them all, so he just stands there, all eyes on him, and waits.

"He hurt you, Grian. We don't want anyone else to get hurt, it's necessary." Wilbur has always been persuasive, but Grian snarls at him now, wings flaring behind him.

"Get  _ away _ , Wilbur. If anyone's going to kill him, it's me, and anyways, he hasn't hurt anyone." If nothing else, they should recognize the right of dibs. (Not for food or weapons or anything important, just for lives) Wilbur glances at him with a frown, and the pressure eases slightly as he steps back, sword falling to his side. Tommy does as well, slightly more hesitant, and then only Techno remains, and Grian can still taste blood. Xisuma hasn't moved, and Grian thinks he could, is grateful that he hasn't, because he doesn't want his brothers to be hurt. Especially not Techno. He steps forward, hand outstretched, begging with his eyes for Techno to stop, to take his hand.

"Tech, please. Don’t do this. Don’t be like him, please. For me." He says, voice low. (he remembers the two of them, still children, falling asleep in the same bed, tangled together, remembers learning to fight, to watch each other's backs, remembers being brothers, long before the other two appeared) Techno's eyes close, and a shudder runs through him before he finally, slowly, steps back, his hand falling to his side. The dagger falls to the ground, and Grian darts forward, wraps his arms around his brother. 

"Thank you," he whispers, and Techno is still shaking, but Grian thinks maybe they'll be all right. 

The taste of blood is gone.


	6. Chapter 6

It's been a day since Techno held a dagger to another god's throat, and he finally slept. (He woke up in the middle of the night to Grian climbing through the window, to his younger brother burrowing into bed beside him, and he hasn't slept so well in years) He finally slept, and he thinks he might be able to get a handle on this, keep the voices at a whisper rather than a roar, keep a tight leash on the power he's still learning to use. He doesn't need help.

He doesn't need help, but Grian is asking him to come with him to talk to Xisuma, and he understands why, he knows Wilbur would only rip them both to shreds with a tongue that has only sharpened with time and death, that Tommy would interrupt at the worst time, would lose his temper in an instant. Techno knows how to stay still and quiet, knows how to act intimidating and like nothing is affecting him, even if the voices are screaming. He doesn't want Grian to go alone, doesn't want the chance of Grian being manipulated into saying everything is fine, so he agrees.

They meet in the shopping district, at the top of another tower (Techno almost wishes he hadn't tucked away the elytra, because all these buildings are annoyingly tall) This one is white and shaped like a llama for some reason, with greenery all over the inside. He focuses on that instead of the tension that makes him want to have his sword in hand all over again, rests a hand on Grian's shoulder for a moment instead before he lets it fall away, steps into the background to watch the scene play out. 

He's not expecting the whispers to get louder as soon as he lays eyes on Xisuma, should have expected the voice he's been working so hard to ignore to get louder, the same as it had before. 

_ He's not expecting it, you could take him now.  _ It whispers, and he forces himself to stand still, to keep his hands away from his weapons, to listen to what's being said.

"You lied to me," Grian is saying. "I told you everything about what I was, and you didn't tell me you were a god. You didn't tell me you were like  _ him. _ "

The voice in his head snorts in laughter.  _ I am  _ nothing _ like him. I am better than he could dream of being, I will raze his server to the ground and bathe the ground in his blood!  _ Techno tenses even as he pictures it, as he tastes the blood in the back of his throat, as he feels it on his hands, dripping through his fingers.

"I didn't tell you because being a god has never been important to me," Xisuma's voice is quiet, but cuts straight through the image. "I never cared for gaining power or influence. I'm only here to spend time with my friends and see what they can create. I don't ask anyone to follow me, and I don't push them to be more than what they already are. I provide inspiration, nothing more."

"Will said-" Grian cuts himself off, rallies before continuing. "Wilbur said your influence was on me. Like Phil's was. If you only provide inspiration, why is it there?" He demands, and Techno rocks back on his heels, waiting for the response. 

"I'm surprised he could see it. Anyone who enters this server who isn't a god or following one will pick up a little bit of my magic. It's not dangerous, it's not like his. But I made this server, so part of me is everywhere. Including you. But it isn't enough to change anyone, I swear to you."

_ Weak.  _ Phil declares,  _ if my sons weren't such cowards, you would be dead, along with your precious friends.  _ Techno doesn't flinch, but it's a near thing. 

"You still should have told me. You should have told all of us, we deserve to know what's happening to us. I thought you  _ cared. _ " Grian's voice is thick with unshed tears, and Techno almost breaks, almost steps forward to do something, to pull him away, to comfort him, to tell him it will be alright, but Xisuma beats him to it. 

The god gathers Grian in his arms, holds him close, and a part of Techno  _ aches _ , because he remembers being held, arms pulling him close, but he thinks Xisuma looks softer, doesn't hold as tightly. His hands are gentle, and Techno doesn't blame Grian for the way he clings, for the way his shoulders shake. 

_ Pathetic _ , the voice says.  _ Kill them now, kill them both, bring me back, cut out his heart and dedicate it to me, kill them, kill them, kill them _ . The rest of the voices join in the chant, until he can hardly think of anything else, until his hand drifts to the hilt of his sword without thinking. 

"I'm sorry, Grian," Xisuma is saying, voice soft. "I'm sorry. I should have told you. I promise though, I haven't done anything to you. You're who you are because of how strong you are. I'm so proud of you." Grian melts further, and Techno has to close his eyes because Phil is still yelling  _ coward _ in his head, and the others join in, and half of him wishes he had gone with Grian when he left. (he would have, if Grian had asked, he thinks, he wants to believe he would have.) But Tommy would still be hurt, and Wilbur would still be dead, and he thinks Phil might have come after them if both of them had left, but he still longs for something he can't articulate.

He opens his eyes and the two have separated, and it's hard to tell through the helmet, but he thinks Xisuma is looking at him. He lifts his hand from his sword, crosses his arms instead with the lack of anything else to do with his hands. 

"Your domain hasn't settled on you yet. I can still help, if you'll let me." He says, and Techno hesitates for a long moment before he nods. For Wilbur and Tommy, if nothing else, and they won't accept help if he doesn't. The voices howl, but he keeps his thoughts on his brothers, on the calm pool of power in front of him, and it hurts, his head aches, and his heart is sore, but he can hope for peace in the future. 

"Let's go home, Tech." Grian's voice is soft, and his shoulders relax, because this isn't home, but it's close enough, it's safe and the only people he cares about are here. 

Including the one in his head. 


	7. Chapter 7

Wilbur knows a few things to be fact. The first is that Grian abandoned them. He left without saying goodbye, left them only with a broken door and the memories of an older brother. He abandoned them and didn't look back, and Wilbur knows why (he's not jealous, he just understands), but that doesn't mean he trusts Grian. The second is that Techno is the worst person to be sent to oversee this talk. He's never been good at seeing the lines of magic that connect people; was never good at seeing the shine of influence on someone's brow. He'll be able to recognize if Xisuma is using his words, maybe, but Wilbur also knows that there are several ways to manipulate, and most of them don't happen out loud. And the third is that Wilbur doesn't know if he cares. He went to kill Xisuma the first time because Grian is his brother, because if he's going to follow anyone, to be influenced by anyone, it should be them, not some god of nothing special. He refuses to be second best. But if this is what Grian is insisting on, why should he care? He is a god now, like his father, like his brothers, and he might still be learning everything that means, but he thinks it means he doesn't have to care as much.

Phil never did, after all.

(He ignores the small voice in the back of his head that says he should care, that the point was to care, to be able to show it without being told he was wrong. That voice is wrong. This is about power.)

He's pacing when the other two come back, ignoring Tommy playing music in the grass beside him. Grian's face is streaked with tear tracks (unsurprising), and Techno is stiff, his expression unmoving in a way that used to mean the voices were screaming, but now he's not as sure about, since the voices should be gone. (the only thing he can feel through the connection all three of them share is the same guilt and grief as always, the same thing that settled on Techno's shoulders as soon as the celebration wore off.) 

"How'd it go? Are we leaving?" Tommy pipes up, sitting up from where he'd been laying on his back, and Wilbur faces them expectantly. Grian hesitates before he answers.

"It went well. We aren't leaving, don't be ridiculous. X said he has no intention of controlling or influencing anyone." Grian says, and he almost sounds convinced. Techno is silent beside him, but he gives a nod when Wilbur meets his eyes, and he knew it was a terrible idea to send these two off alone. 

"Oh, well, if he said he has no intention of controlling anyone, he must be telling the truth," Wilbur says, letting sarcasm drip off every word. "Clearly he would never lie about his intentions, that's not something gods would do. And he's always told the truth before, hasn't he?" He can see the words working under Grian's skin, is almost satisfied with it, but there are still more itching under his skin. He opens his mouth to release them, but Techno interrupts.

"Grian, Tommy, go inside. I need to talk to Wilbur." He orders, and Wilbur mentally labels them both traitors when they obey, Tommy hauling himself up from the grass to follow Grian into the mansion. Techno waits until they're completely gone before he grabs the front of Wilbur's shirt, and his back hits a tree in the next second, Techno in front of him and holding him a few inches in the air. He could maybe get free, but it would involve more injury than he cares to inflict at the moment, and Techno's eyes aren't red, but they are fixed on him with enough anger to make him pause.

"What the hell are you doing?" Techno hisses, shaking him hard enough Wilbur's teeth clack together. "You  _ said  _ we should do this to be a family, to be better for Tommy. You  _ said _ you wanted to be a better man than Phil. If you're going to be like this to everyone, what was the point of all this?" He demands, giving another shake, and Wilbur can feel his shirt tearing, but he doesn't care, sneers at his brother.

" _ Ghostbur  _ said those things. He was weak, and he was not me.  _ He was weak, and so are you _ ." He snarls, and something in Techno's face tenses, and he growls, backhands him hard enough that Wilbur can taste blood.

"You're an idiot if you think I believe that," Techno says, but there's doubt in his eyes. "Ghostbur was just you without Phil's voice in your ear, you know that. You can be better." Wilbur spits the blood out of his mouth, and it lands on Techno's arm. He doesn't flinch, but he does flinch at Wilbur's next words, snarled through bloody teeth.

"Then why don't you kill me again and bring him back?" He asks, has to scramble to keep his feet when Techno lets him go. He straightens his shirt, watches his brother step away from him.

"Everyone liked Ghostbur better anyways. Things were better when I was dead, so go ahead, Technoblade. Cut me down. Live up to our father's legacy." He spits the words out like poison, sentences that have been circling his mind like sharks, looking for any sign of weakness. (people think he is cruel to others, they don't know just how cruel he is to himself) He spreads his hands wide, steps closer, and watches his brother's eyes go wide, searching for escape.

"This is what I am. It's what I was made into, and I don't know how to be anything different," the words settle as he says them, etching into his very soul, because this is the truth. "Phil made me into something new when I chose him, and he did it again when he died. If you don't like it, then kill me now. Maybe this time I won't come back." He thinks that sounds like a relief, actually, having some time to rest. Even death hadn't been an escape the first time. 

"You're wrong," the voice isn't Techno's, is coming from the wrong direction, and Wilbur turns to see Tommy, feet planted and Grian behind him, a pained look on his face. 

"You're wrong." Tommy repeats. "You can be better, you just have to stop being a fucking coward. You're too afraid that you're gonna fail that you aren't even trying, and you know what, Wilbur?" He tilts his head and Wilbur almost wants to hit him, but it's Tommy, he's always been like this. "That makes you a bitch." Wilbur's hands ball into fists, and he wants to hit something in a way he usually doesn't. (he usually leaves the actual fighting to Techno or even Tommy, he's okay at it, but he's better at other things.) He wants to hit Tommy, but the kid has the tilt to his jaw that says he's ready to fight back, and he knows Techno and Grian will just dogpile him anyways, so he spins on his heel, walks away. It's the best option, but it feels like a defeat, and he's waiting for the sword in his back until long after he knows he's disappeared from sight. 

He walks, and he walks, and he walks. He passes massive builds, and places that look untouched but give way to areas that have been cleared and rebuilt, and he doesn't know how long he's walked when he runs into someone else. Not long enough for the anger and hurt and guilt and grief to go away, not long enough for him to stop tasting blood in the back of his throat, no matter that he rinsed his mouth out with the first water he found. 

"Hello there." The man is tall, dressed in a dark green shirt with blue pants, and a mask that hides the lower half of his face. Silver hair waves precariously high, and he's perched on top of a redstone contraption that's attached to the side of something that might be a house, but doesn't look much like one. Wilbur squints at him, swallows the words that are already cutting his tongue and filling his mouth with blood, does his best to smile.

"Hello," he says, and it almost sounds pleasant, he thinks. The man's eyes squint in what he assumes is a smile, and he jumps down to stand in front of him, hands in his pockets.

"You're not a new Hermit, are you? I don't think I would have missed that." He says, a wry sort of humor in his voice, and Wilbur's smile fades.

"No, I'm not quite pathetic enough to be a Hermit," he says, and he thinks that will get a reaction, a spike of anger, and it's almost a relief when the man doesn't respond in the way he expects. He just tilts his head and gives another eye squint.

"I was about to make some deliveries. Would you care to help me?" He offers, and something about the offer makes the anger drain away, leaving him limp, and he sighs.

"All right."

The man's name is Etho, he learns, and he runs a business based solely around pranking the others on the server. They're harmless pranks, and he spends the next few hours crawling through attics and holes in the ground to place beehives, or filling chests with panes of glass, and it's almost enough to keep the fire in his chest down to a dull roar. 

Still, he has to ask, once they're finished and Etho has promised him a cold drink in return for his help.

"Why not do something more destructive? You could rig TNT traps or just kill them, why don't you?" The pranks are annoying, but they aren't going to hurt anyone, and Wilbur can't understand  _ why. _ It would be easier to hurt them, he thinks, rather than thinking of new ways to annoy them.

"I could, and it would be a lot easier to just dump them in some lava," Etho allows. "But this way is more fun. Besides, I don't want to hurt them for no reason. They're my friends." It's simple reasoning, and the sharks are already circling, looking for ways to tear it apart, and he could, he thinks, but part of him doesn't want to. Part of him wonders what it's like, to love someone without wanting to hurt them, without hurting yourself in the process. (he doesn't know if he can, thinks maybe that part of himself is broken, buried under scars and old wounds he would have to cut open to get to, and he doesn't know if he would survive the process) In the end, he doesn't say anything, but it sticks with him as he finds his way back to the mansion, the setting sun behind him, as he doesn't apologize for his words even as his brothers treat him like he's made of glass. They're still in his head that night, when the world is asleep and Tommy creeps into his room, sneaks under the covers with him like he's expecting to be rejected. 

"Hey, Wil?" He whispers after several moments, and he hums a response, keeping his words sealed behind bloody lips. 

"I don't think I want to be the bad guy anymore." Tommy whispers, and Wilbur wants to laugh, wants to cry, wants to get up and leave, but instead he hugs Tommy, thinks of pranks that don't hurt, that are funny, thinks of loving someone enough to not hurt them.

"I don't think I do either, Toms." He finally whispers back, and no promises are made, but the moon shines brightly through the window and he thinks promises are made to be broken, but conversations in the night are worth more. 

Maybe he can try to be the good guy. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning: there is a character having a panic attack in this chapter, if that's triggering for you, then you might just want to skip this one!
> 
> Thanks for all the love, guys. :)

The fire rages highest in the middle of the town. Grian can see the way it makes the sky bright from where he is huddled in a tree he had barely managed to hide in, wings curled around himself as though they will protect him. (they did not protect his parents, the rest of his family, the red-eyed man, the demon, had killed them all) He had watched, had run away as his mother screamed, and he can't stop hearing that scream now, echoing in his mind. (he can see her hands too, covered in blood and pushing him away. He tries not to think of where the blood came from)

He stuffs his fist in his mouth to keep from screaming when the red-eyed man appears, a piglin behind him. (he doesn't realize at this point, how small the piglin is, closer to his height than the man's, he thinks they are both giants, with swords that cut down everything he knows) They are both drenched in blood, and he hates that the man has wings nearly the same shade as his family. 

They are under his tree (he can hear the man laughing, praising the other for his skills, and bile rises) and he cannot help but look down, watch them go by, does not expect the piglin to pause, look up to meet his eyes. He flinches back into the trunk, but it's too late, red eyes have followed the other's gaze and he can see the man's smile, illuminated by the flames. 

"Well, hello there, little one. Care to come down?" He says, and Grian can't move, can't do anything but stare at him. The man sighs, as though his inability to move is an extreme inconvenience.

"Techno, will you go and fetch our new friend for me?" He says, and Grian goes to scramble further up, to try to fly away, but he still hasn't learned to do more than glide, and fear has him nearly falling out of the tree before the piglin plucks him from the branch, carries him over a shoulder too broad for someone the same height, and sets him in front of the red-eyed man. Grian doesn't fall to his knees, but it's a close thing, especially when the man trails a finger over the top of his wings.

"A little feathered friend. Tell me, child, which would you rather? To die with your old family, or to be part of a new one? Techno could use a brother, I think." His voice is soft, Grian can hear the buildings crumbling in the background, and he shakes his head, shrinks away. The man sighs, stands to his full height and draws his sword.

"A pity." He says, and the sword falls-

  
  


Grian gasps awake, the phantom feeling of blood still on his hands, the trace of a finger that wasn't really there trailing across his wing. It's just a dream, but it isn't all at the same time, because it happened. Only the ending was different, because he chose to stay, to live, and he still isn't sure if he regrets it or not. (he doesn't, and he hates himself for it, he should have stayed, should have been willing to die for his family instead of becoming a monster.) He thinks he did die, in some ways, that his mother's son is gone, and in his place is something that's been twisted into different shapes until he doesn't know what he is.

He shivers, sits up to wrap his arms around his knees, wings curled around himself like a hug. Wilbur's words echo in his head, and he's certain it's a combination of that and dealing with Xisuma that has him dreaming of this. It could be worse. He could dream of the fires he started, the blood dripping from his own sword and the taste of it in his mouth. He could dream of being a monster, and he's almost grateful that he dreams of this instead.

He stands, itching for something to do, and his eyes fall on the floor, and Wilbur's words run through his head once more, and he hates it suddenly. He wants it gone, and he has his pick in hand the next second. 

_ His sword drips with blood, and bile rises in the back of his throat. He looks at his sword because it's better than looking at the body he just cut down, better than thinking about the life he just snuffed out, and he does throw up now, dropping his sword to empty his stomach on the grass. _

_ "Get it together, Grian," Techno hisses behind him, his bulk shielding him from prying eyes. Grian doesn't know if it's on purpose or not, but he's grateful anyways as he wipes his hand across his mouth. "Phil's gonna be over here any second, and you better have a smile." To any outsiders, Techno would sound angry, but Grian knows by now that he's worried, and he forces himself to straighten, to pick up his sword. As long as he doesn't look at the blood, he can handle this. He can do it. _

_ "I'm okay," he whispers, still avoiding looking at the body. "I'm okay." If he says it enough, he can convince himself, and bile rises again, but he forces it down, forces himself to act normal as screams sound behind him. _

"What are you doing?" It takes him a moment to realize it's not Phil's voice, that his hands aren't covered in blood, they're covered in shards of the floor that is nearly gone, and he thinks he's been throwing it in the fire, but he can't actually remember the past few minutes. 

"Grian? Why are you tearing up your floor in the middle of the night?" It's Wilbur, he knows that now, and he wants to cry at the thought of dealing with his brother right now. He can't handle being torn apart, there are too many memories too close to the surface, and he shrugs, looking down at the floor that definitely has a few holes in it now leading into the area that wasn't filled in before.

"I'm gonna change it to something else. Black, maybe? Or grey." Grey is good, it's neutral. It's not red spilled out like blood, and what was he thinking, even putting this down in the first place? He strikes out at another block, and another, and he almost forgets Wilbur is there until hands cover his, stopping his movements.

"Stop that. Stop it, this can be done later. After you've gotten some sleep. What are you even doing up?" Wilbur asks, and there's not as much bite in the question as Grian was expecting, there's more softness in his eyes than he thinks is usually there, and he blinks up at him.

"I had a nightmare," he admits, and usually Wilbur would laugh, he thinks, but his face does something that's almost sympathetic, but is also a little constipated, and Grian would laugh if he didn't think it would devolve into tears.

"Do you really think Xisuma is lying?" He asks instead, because honesty comes easier in the middle of the night, if it comes at all, and he needs to know, because even if Wilbur is vindictive and a liar and liable to tear you down, he's also better at judging people than any of them. Grian trusts too easily, Techno doesn't trust at all, and Tommy is just desperate for affection. Wilbur doesn't trust either, but at least he understands how people think. 

Wilbur sighs, takes the pickaxe and sets it on the ground before pushing him to sit on a block that hasn't been ravaged just yet. His hands aren't exactly gentle, but they aren't overly rough either, and Grian sits, Wilbur wedged next to him.

"I would be, if I was him. If I was him, I would make sure everyone on this server was loyal to the point they would never dream of betraying me, no matter what I told them I was, or what I asked them to do. I would build an army, and they wouldn't even know it until I told them to die, and they would, because I asked them to." Wilbur trails off, and Grian doesn't think he feels any better. Xisuma and Wilbur are different, he thinks. Xisuma doesn't seem like the type to start wars, doesn't seem like he has ambitions towards building an army or being cruel on purpose. Just on accident, and Wilbur is right, he has lied before, who's to say he isn't doing it again? Who's to say Grian isn't trusting too easily all over again, following a man who is a monster, letting himself believe he isn't becoming one as well? Has he actually grown at all, or will he regress as soon as he leaves into the same feral creature he was?

"Grian! Grian, breathe, come on, fuck, you idiot, just take a breath." Wilbur is pounding on his back, but he still can't breathe, because what if, what if, what if he's a monster, what if there's nothing he can do about it, what if he can never leave here because it doesn't matter how hard he works, it only matters what god has influence over him now, and his lungs are burning, but he can't draw a breath. 

"Hey, Grian, you're okay. Can you take a deep breath with me? Just like this, okay?" That's Etho, kneeling in front of him, mask pulled down around his neck so Grian can see the way he breathes in, and he copies him without thinking, brain stuttering to a halt at the unexpected sight. 

"Good job. Now do that a few more times, okay? In and out, just breathe with me. You're okay." Grian breathes again, focused on Etho and his face, the way he's exaggerating his breathing, and it almost helps, the buzz of panic in his brain dying to a dull roar that he can think over. 

"Good. Wilbur will you go get some water?" Etho waits until Wilbur is gone before he continues, and Grian just focuses on breathing, on not spiralling into what ifs and memories that lurk just beneath the surface of his brain.

"Grian, can you tell me 5 things you can see?" Etho asks, and it takes him a moment to respond, to look around the room and actually see it.

"Uh, your face. The fire. The chandelier. The pillars. My pick." He says, eyes flicking around the room. He doesn't mention the half-destroyed floor, and Etho's gaze doesn't waver.

"Perfect. Four things you can hear?" Etho asks next and that's a little harder. He bites his lip, focuses on the sounds around him.

"Um, parrots, outside, I think. A zombie somewhere. The pumpkin farm. The wind." It's howling around the mansion walls, actually, loud enough he doesn't hear Wilbur walking up, water in hand. 

"Here. Are you better?" He asks, and Grian takes the water, takes a sip. He didn't realize how thirsty he was, and he takes a longer drink before taking stock of himself. His head is clearer, the memories are no longer just below the surface. His chest is still tight though, his heart is still pounding, and the dull buzz of panic isn't gone yet, just held at bay. He's better than he was, but he's not better, and he's not sure how to enunciate the difference.

"It's all right if you aren't, Grian. It takes a little time to recover from that." Etho says, gray eyes understanding, and he nods, taking another slow breath as Wilbur sits on the floor, folding his legs under him. He glances between them a few times before he speaks again, and Grian thinks this is where the judgement comes in, the accusation of weakness.

"Hey, remember when we were kids, and Techno would get overwhelmed by the crowds? I'd distract Phil, and you'd calm him down before anyone else noticed. We made a pretty good team." Grian actually hadn't remembered that, not until Wilbur said something. Techno had stopped being overwhelmed by crowds a year or so after Wilbur had come along, and their practiced routine of protecting him had been rendered unnecessary. (he thinks maybe that was the last time he remembers working with Wilbur for something like that) He relaxes a fraction, because it means something, that even when they had all been influenced by Phil, they had still worked to protect each other. As much as they'd blamed each other for little things, they'd also made sure the weaknesses were shielded, protected from judgemental eyes. 

"Yeah, we did make a good team," he says, and his voice comes out a little shakier than he would like, but Wilbur still smiles. Etho sits back on his heels, mask pulled up again so only his eyes show.

"Do you need to talk about what caused all that, Grian?" He asks, head tilted, and Grian is tired just thinking of trying to explain everything, even to Etho, who never seems phased. He shakes his head, looking down at his water.

"I just had a nightmare, is all. Thank you," he says, figuring it's probably the thing to say. After all, if he hadn't happened along, Grian doesn't know what Wilbur would have done. He frowns, looks up again.

"Hey, what were you doing-" he cuts himself off when he notices Etho is already gone, and he sighs. "Of course." Wilbur is still there, though, looking unsure in the morning light without Etho there as a buffer, and Grian won't admit to the way his heart is still pounding. They're both a mess, he thinks, eyes falling on his ruined floor. It needs to be fixed before he can do anything else, and he pushes himself up, picking up his pickaxe and offering it to Wilbur.

"Help me with this?" He asks, and Wilbur only hesitates a moment before taking it.

"Okay," he says, and it's not an apology, it isn't forgiveness, but it's enough for now, and they work in silence as the sun rises.

(It's not until later that he finds the gray glass in his chests, and the last edge of panic is chased away by laughter, because of course that's what Etho was doing, the bastard, what did he expect?)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have such a hard time writing Tommy, but I hope you guys enjoy this chapter!

Tommy has power flowing through his fingers and a feeling like fire in his chest, and he doesn't know if he's a monster, but he's certainly not human anymore. He didn't have a choice, of course, not when power was being shoved into him until he screamed, until he burned, but that's not surprising. He hasn't had a choice in a long time, now that he looks back. (his only choice has been in who he cares about, and he thinks maybe he isn't very good at making choices.) Now, though, there's a fire in his chest, and power dancing between his fingers, and he thinks he can choose whatever he wants. That's what having power means, after all. It means having the power to choose what you do and don't want to do, who you want to be, and he thinks he does not want to be his father's son. 

He does not want to be his father's son, but there's blood in the back of his throat, and when he looks at his brothers there's something like hatred. Grian left them, Techno is always pushing him to be more bloodthirsty, and Wilbur...Wilbur is a coward who chose his own death, who cuts people down with words, and Tommy hates that he would still follow him anywhere. (he thinks he hates himself more than any of them, hates himself for still loving them.)

He does not want to be his father's son, but when he breaks away from his brothers, wanders the server and sees some of the builds, his first thought is always whether or not they will burn. He goes through chests instead, looking for something interesting, something to use, but no one here keeps diaries or journals or ledgers or anything fun. Grian has most of the same things in his chests anyways, so the only thing he ends up taking are some honey blocks one of them give him, and that's mostly because it's always funny watching people's faces when he bites into them.

He keeps wandering, though, because he's bored, and if he complains about it, Grian will do something like challenge him to see who can gather the most sand for The Barge. (he's not an idiot, and if Grian wants him to work, he can pay him.) He keeps wandering, slipping into holes he thinks aren't necessarily meant for him, but might lead somewhere interesting, and he's desperate for a distraction. He's not looking for anyone, but he finds a few people. Zedaph, who gives him honey blocks. Cleo and Joe, who teach him to weave flower crowns. (he gives one to Techno, and laughs when his brother gravely replaces his golden crown with daisies, keeps it until after the flowers have wilted) False, who keeps sparring with Techno even after he kills her. 

He hasn't talked to a lot of the people he's seen, actually. It feels dangerous. He still doesn't know for sure if they're staying, if Xisuma is going to change his mind and make them all leave. (he has seen the god only once, and he wonders if every admin hides their face, if he's like Dream and is willing to abuse his power to get what he wants.) He thinks if he doesn't talk to anyone, doesn't make friends, it won't hurt as badly when they leave this time. (he has sat down to write letters to Tubbo every day, has thrown away every letter, because how can he explain this? Better to say nothing and let his memory fade away, but he keeps writing letters anyways, because he doesn't know how to let go.) 

He wanders, and he doesn't know how far he's gone when he finds a sprawling field. It's filled with wheat, blowing gently in the breeze, and he pauses at the edge, wondering who put in this much work when there are better ways to get food. (He didn't know before, but he's seen the farms on the server, the excess of food and supplies, the way they don't even have to work to survive, really.) He circles the field, looking for any sign of who's field this is, and all but dives into the wheat when he spots the person standing on the edge. 

Xisuma is dressed in green overalls, a white shirt underneath them. It's incongruous when paired with his helmet, the contrast between humble and high-tech, and Tommy doesn't trust it. He doesn't know how to leave though, not without the man knowing he's there, and he resigns himself to staying until the god leaves. He's not moving, though, just standing there, leaning on a hoe. Tommy doesn't know what he's looking at, tries to see, but there's just...wheat. Wheat, and behind it, blue sky and the sun shining. Nothing to draw attention, not really, but if the god is distracted, maybe he can move after all, and he edges towards the way he came.

Xisuma's head turns, and he freezes, wondering if he could see him, wondering what his expression is. (This is what he hated most about Dream, about not seeing his face, he never knew when the admin was displeased, when he'd drawn his ire.) He freezes, and he does not move, does not breathe as Xisuma's head tilts, as he stands straighter, turning further towards him.

"Hello, Tommy." He says, and his voice is friendly, but so was Dream's. "Can I help you with something?" He asks, and it's almost laughable, this politeness when the last time Tommy saw him, he was threatening to kill him. There's no point in hiding now, so he stands up straight, keeps his hands away from his weapons. He doesn't want to fight, he just wants to get away without getting hurt. (Here is the thing: he has power dancing on his fingers, but none of the confidence to use it, and he doesn't know that he ever will.) 

"Are you gonna make us leave?" He asks, and it's not what he meant to say, but it's the question that's been eating at the back of his mind, because it's what he would do. It's what Dream would do, what anyone would do. If someone hurts you, then you make them leave, you don't let them stick around forever to hurt you more. 

"Of course not. You're welcome here as long as you want to stay," Xisuma says, and Tommy lifts his chin, wonders how far he can push the admin before he gets under his skin, wonders if he can make him angry, wonders if he can make him hurt. He thinks he could, but he does not want to be his father's son, so he pushes the urge to the back of his mind. 

"We tried to kill you," he points out, because he was exiled for burning a house that was fixed in less than a day, why would Xisuma forgive them for this? It makes no sense, and it will eat at his mind until he knows the answer, until he boils over and sets fire to everything around him. (People don't know that he has a fire in his chest, and one day it will erupt, and it will eat everything in sight, including himself.)

"You didn't, though. You listened to Grian. And you aren't going to try again, are you?" Xisuma asks, and Tommy shrugs one shoulder, because he doesn't know. He doesn't want to, but he will follow his brothers through the fire, because he loves them and hates them and every emotion in between. 

There's silence, and then Xisuma moves, and Tommy can't restrain the way he moves in the opposite direction. It's just a tiny step backwards, but Xisuma tilts his head, and Tommy freezes, doesn't dare breathe, until a hoe is being held out to him, and he frowns.

"Would you like to help? I think gardening is very calming." Xisuma says, and Tommy looks between the god and the hoe and the field of wheat that stretches further than he can see. Finally, he sighs, takes the hoe. The handle is well-worn, and it's actually comfortable in his hand. 

"Where do I start?"


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Techno and False have a friendly spar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bruuuuh I meant to post this like a week ago. My deepest apologies, I got stuck on a scene and temporarily forgot to post in frustration.  
> Anyways, please enjoy!

Techno hadn't been expecting the offer to spar. Sure, he'd seen the Hermits play-fight with the paintball game, but he didn't think any of them were _actual_ fighters. Looking at False now, though, he can't deny the ropy muscles that ripple along her shoulders, the confident way she stands with one hand on her sword. And he has the itch between his shoulder blades that means he needs a good fight, needs to let out some tension, so he rolls his shoulders and grins at her.

"Where do you wanna do it?" He asks, impressed at the way she just grins back. She's over a foot shorter than him, and most are intimidated, no matter how friendly he is, but she doesn't back down. 

"I've got a spot over by my base. Unless you'd rather do it somewhere else?" She offers, and he shrugs. It doesn't much matter to him, as long as there's a clear spot to stand. Even that's not necessarily required, just preferred for a spar. She nods, and he appreciates that she doesn't take off with the elytra on her back. (His is still stashed in a chest, even if he thinks maybe Scar isn't going to ask for anything in return.) Most of the hermits fly everywhere, an annoying habit when he prefers to stay on his feet. 

It doesn't take long for her to lead him to a small clearing by her base. (Her base is massive, and at some point he's going to stop being shocked by the scale on this server.) 

"Armor on?" He checks as he steps into it, spinning his sword into his hand. The voices have perked up at the promise of violence, calls for blood rising, and he doesn't suppress them, lets them wash over him until his muscles thrum with the need to move. 

"Over too early if we don't keep it on. No pots, though. Or shields." She stipulates, and he nods in agreement. Shields are annoying, and even though he does maybe abuse potions, they aren't entirely necessary in a spar, so he just sets himself in a fighting stance and matches her grin.

"Come on, then," he invites, and she's moving in the next moment, faster than he expects, and he has to step back to block her first blow. She bares her teeth at him over their crossed swords, and he laughs before shoving her away, watches her hop backwards lightly, and then…

He wasn't lying when he said violence was a language all its own. But it's also a dance, and False seems to know all the steps. He falls into the back and forth with ease, mind going blank with the familiarity of it all. It's a give and take, like any good conversation, and he doesn't need to hold back, not really, she just keeps matching him, and her armor is good enough to absorb half the blows he lands. (She blocks the other half, and he wants to know who trained her, where she learned to fight like this, because no one has managed to match him like this since Phil.)

It's maybe a little too comfortable: he stops holding back, starts pushing harder, and he listens more to the voices that have been yelling at him to _kill,_ to draw blood. His vision goes red when she draws the first blood. It's just a nick, barely anything, but he can smell it, can taste it in the back of his throat, and the voices _scream_. Maybe it would be better if he had actually fought someone in the past week, if Grian hadn't talked him down before he killed Xisuma, if he hadn't been on edge for days, but it's a relief to sink into the bloodlust, to let it take over until he has no thoughts except one.

_Blood for the blood god_.

He spins, blocks, spins again, and his sword comes down in a gleaming arc, and red blood blooms as the sharp edge cuts through skin, through muscle, through bone. He finishes his arc as False's body hits the ground, and inhales the sweet scent of blood, lets it settle in his lungs, in the back of his throat. It doesn't sate the craving, not completely, but it's something, even if the voices still scream for more.

Her body disappears in a burst of light, and it's a short amount of time before she's flying from one of the towers to land in front of him, and Techno wants to fight again, still has the hum of it running through him, but she picks up her armor, sheathes her sword before she looks him in the eye. There's a new scar running along her neck, thick and red along the wound he dealt, and he feels something that might be guilt at the sight, but she had asked to spar, and they have no death here, so surely it was expected.

"So, I think I forgot to mention one part of sparring," she says, and Techno stills, because he doesn't think this wasn't wrong, this was what she'd asked for; a spar.

"A spar usually doesn't mean you have to respawn. It's just for fun, you know? No pressure," she says, and he stares for maybe too long, because her smile starts to waver. 

"For fun," he finally says, voice flat, because fighting is a lot of things. It's survival, it's blood rushing through his veins and a dance and a language all its own, but he doesn't think it can be defined as _fun_.

"Yeah? Something you can do with friends and the like. Not to hurt one another," she says, and he thinks maybe they've had different experiences, and he sheaths his sword, ignores the cries from the voices to push for more, to find more blood, to drink it in until he's strong enough to do anything, to burn the world. 

"Do you want to go again?" She asks, and he pauses, takes her in. She's got her armor back on, but the scar is still red against pale skin, and he thinks he could do worse, could make it so she couldn't respawn.

He doesn't want to.

"Maybe later," he says instead, because he does want to fight her again, wants to dance until he can't think anymore, but right now the bloodlust is close to the surface, and he needs to find a better outlet. Sparring won't work, obviously, but there has to be something.

He's already walking away when she calls his name, and he turns halfway to look at her over his shoulder. "If you ever need to talk, let me know. I'm a good listener," she says, and her smile is bright, and he turns away again, because maybe she's a good listener, but he's never been good at talking. 


End file.
